Something To Live For
by DobbyLovesSocks
Summary: It's happened time after time before, but it never ceases to amaze you when Neville understands how you think better than you do. /HannahNeville, post-war


For dimitrisgirl18's Big/Lil' Sister Competition using the prompts:** Pairing:** **Hannah/Neville**, **Word: insignificant**, **Song: Stay by Rihanna**, **Color: colorless**, **Genre: Romance**

Word count: 928

Thanks so much to Paula for letting me use her idea for the end of the fic. :) (Okay. I do _not_ like how this turned out. Meh.)

* * *

It's the first time you've tried to paint since the war. And maybe the colours are coming out all wrong and they look like nothing more than splatters of blood and fury on a canvas, dripping red around the edges, but at least it reflects what's going through your mind.

You've always been good at putting your thoughts down on paper.

Maybe this is the first time you've really been _calm _since the war. Your hands are covered in paint and it looks like you killed a man with your brush, but at least you have somewhere to let it all out. But when his fingers brush against your waist and his lips are on yours, the adrenaline starts pumping and you kiss him back, hard, pulling him closer, _closer_, until you can't quite tell where your tears start and his begin.

"You're painting again," he whispers when he finally draws back. Your noses are touching. "I love watching you paint. You look... peaceful. Like you can finally think about everything without it hurting." It's happened time after time before, but it never ceases to amaze you when Neville understands how you think better than you do.

* * *

You aren't quite sure why, but the days seem to be dragging on slower and slower as they come. You're constantly _bored._ It seems insignificant, but it isn't. You're counting down the days until...

That's when it hits you. There's nothing left. You're counting down until the end, an ambiguous point in time that you're hoping is sooner and sooner every day. The war, you think, broke you. Instead of waking up excited for the coming day, you're almost _disappointed_ to be waking up again every morning, sad that you have to face another day.

Almost.

When you wake up the next morning, you tie your hair in pigtails. It feels odd, but comforting. Like the innocent happiness that once filled you is tied into these two plaits of hair. Neville has already arrived, and he smiles at you when you come down to the kitchen.

"It's almost like being a little kid again, isn't it?" You kiss his cheek, and shake your head in awe. This boy really _does_ know you. Perhaps better than you know yourself.

* * *

The pigtails may have made you smile, but the way you wear your hair isn't going to have lasting effects on your life and personality... As much as you might hope. And you still find it harder to get up in the morning, imagining that you have to live through months, years, _decades_ more of doing so. Even though you've been waking up beside Neville these days, you still wish that everything would just _end,_ sometimes.

You're cutting carrots for dinner that night when you pause and turn the knife over in your hands. You run a finger along the smooth, metal side, and a shudder runs through your body.

_"Hannah."_ Neville sounds worse than you've ever heard him. "What do you think you're _doing?"_

"I-" you start to plead, but Neville interrupts you, his hands shaking.

"I saw the look in your eye," he says angrily. "I saw how much it tempted you, how much you just wanted everything to be over and done with. And you think that sometimes I don't feel the same way? Of _course_ I do, Hannah, we all do. We all get upset, but who's to say that you're allowed to _do_ anything about it? K-" He pauses, swipes at his eyes, and continues in a much softer tone. "Killing yourself isn't okay. _Hurting_ yourself isn't okay. For one thing, you don't deserve it. You're a beautiful, sweet girl, and you didn't deserve to go through that war. None of us did. But it happened, and there are ways to get through it other than killing yourself. Okay?

"And you know what? If you killed yourself, others would follow. If there's one thing you should have learned from the war, it's that people do what they see the people around them doing. You could be the one who caused the other who caused _a million kids to die._ And you don't want that, do you? Plus... I, I don't think _I_ deserve that, Hannah. I... You're one of the biggest reasons I haven't killed myself, if I'm going to be honest. You give me something to live for."

Suddenly, he falls to one knee, his face completely colourless, and a nervous look on his face. "And I want to give _you_ something to live for in return. Hannah... will you, uh, marry me?"

For a moment, you stare at him, neither of you saying a word. Then, "Are you _serious?"_

"I... Yeah, Hannah. I kind of, I mean, I _need_ you, honestly. If you killed yourself, I don't think I could take it. I want you to stay here with me. So, will you?"

Your blue eyes are wet with tears when you answer him, throwing your arms around his neck.

"Yeah. Of course." You kiss his cheek. "And... I wasn't really going to do anything with that knife, you know. I was just..."

"Daydreaming," he finishes. "And I don't want your daydreams to be about killing yourself. I want you to still be able to love everything, despite of what we've been through. The way you used to." You give him a shaky nod.

"I want to have something to _live for,_ something I can wake up in the morning and be excited about. And you're just the thing that can make me feel that way."


End file.
